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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632692">i won't be left here behind closed doors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliptical/pseuds/elliptical'>elliptical</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>an unbelievably self indulgent cdth vampire au [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call Down the Hawk - Maggie Stiefvater, Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assault, Codependency, Gen, Human Ronan Lynch, Platonic Relationships, Sort Of, Vampire Hennessy, Vampire Politics, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:00:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632692</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliptical/pseuds/elliptical</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you buried a fucking body,” Ronan said, “we’re gonna have to dig it up and move it, and I’m <i>not</i> in the mood.”</p>
<p>“Someone’s got his trousers in a twist.  Did I interrupt a good lay?”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>In which a vampire Hennessy calls a human Ronan for a ride, wounds are disinfected, cuddles are achieved, and the concept of vengeance is discussed at length.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hennessy &amp; Ronan Lynch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>an unbelievably self indulgent cdth vampire au [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i won't be left here behind closed doors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this AU has a plot, but i was trying to write a character establishing oneshot before committing to a longfic, and.... it became this, i guess.<br/>note that this relationship is more complicated and sadder than i often write (but not hopelessly so! these kids have room to grow).<br/>the "choose not to use archive warnings" tag is because the story involves the aftermath of a physical assault (not perpetuated by ronan or hennessy) and allusions to non-consensual things, but the story contains no sexual assault or graphic violence.</p>
<p>last note: the vampire lore in this AU is different from that of my trc vampire AU, because if i'm gonna have two separate vampire AUs i might as well fuck around with different ideas o/</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey,” Hennessy said on the other end of a static-y cell connection, “can you pick me up?”</p>
<p>Ronan squinted at his phone to make out the time.  4 PM, which was basically 4 AM for vampires and nocturnal humans.  His phone was set to ignore most calls and texts - Hennessy had done that for him, since Ronan couldn’t be assed to Google the instructions - but Hennessy’s phone calls always went through.</p>
<p>Because Hennessy didn’t call unless she was in trouble.</p>
<p>Which was why Ronan had snatched the device up right away.  Hennessy or Matthew, the two people whose calls couldn’t wait until evening, and it didn't matter which it was, all that mattered was that Ronan knew they were safe.  Ronan’s brain was still so waterlogged with sleep that he could barely process the request.</p>
<p>“Uber?” he suggested.</p>
<p>“Uber would get kind of,” she started, and paused, and added, “complicated.”</p>
<p>“Are you at a crime scene.”</p>
<p>“Are you on your way?”</p>
<p>The lack of answer did not bode well.  Ronan rolled out of bed and pulled on a dirty pair of jeans, then shrugged a sweatshirt over his shoulders without bothering to find a shirt.  “You’ve already fucked yourself by calling me,” he said, “so send me your GPS location.”</p>
<p>Hennessy hadn’t really fucked herself, though, not in any way that mattered.  The thing about being Hennessy was that crime had no meaning.  She'd been getting away with murder for as long as she'd been flaunting her name.  Essentially, she'd turned avoiding consequences into an art form, and if she ever got bored with her art, there were plenty of people who’d pick up the slack.</p>
<p>Ronan, unfortunately, was one of them.</p>
<p>A little chime alerted him to new app activity.  Ronan thumbed open the airdropped coordinates and discovered that Hennessy was out in the middle of the goddamn woods.</p>
<p>“If you buried a fucking body,” Ronan said, “we’re gonna have to dig it up and move it, and I’m <i>not</i> in the mood.”</p>
<p>“Someone’s got his trousers in a twist.  Did I interrupt a good lay?”</p>
<p>“Worse.  You interrupted a good <i>sleep.”</i></p>
<p>“Criminal.”  Hennessy did not sound concerned.  Or apologetic.  She rarely did.  “Bring my leather jacket.  I’m getting sunsick.”</p>
<p>This lent slightly more urgency to Ronan’s movements.  “You’re <i>outside?”</i>  He'd assumed that she was holed up in some shack or remote log cabin with a grizzled sixty-year-old.</p>
<p>“I’m on a bench by a pond in the middle of this lovely state park.  I’m about to hike out to the parking lot.  My footwear, unfortunately, leaves something to be desired.  I’ve spent the last hour contemplating whether it’s better to walk barefoot over gravel or wobble my way back in six-inch heels and break an ankle.  The dilemma is getting harder to weigh since my cognition is going.  I'll probably fall over either way.  I'm rather dizzy.”</p>
<p>“Get into the shade.”</p>
<p>“I’m in the shade.”</p>
<p>“Get away from the <i>reflective surface of the water,</i> Jesus <i>hell.”</i>  Ronan ducked into Hennessy’s usual apartment, which was beside his, and found <i>a</i> leather jacket hanging on the doorknob.  Her wardrobe was expansive.  Chances were, she’d pitch a hissy fit about this not being the <i>right</i> jacket, as if Ronan would ever give a fuck.</p>
<p>“I find it very picturesque,” Hennessy said.  “Nature is lit.”</p>
<p>“Go find a picturesque abandoned fox den to squat in.”</p>
<p>“I cannot express enough how much I am not going to do that.”</p>
<p>“Start back toward the entrance.  It’s a half hour drive.”  Ronan opened the park’s page to look at the trails, careful not to end the call, another trick Hennessy had taught him.  “I’m bringing the ATV.  I’ll meet you however far you get.”</p>
<p>There were several vehicle options to choose from, because Hennessy and Ronan were both ridiculous people with more money than God.  But Ronan made a beeline for the SUV with the ATV already hitched to the back.  They kept the ATV hooked up because their current habitat was in the middle of an industrial zone that didn’t boast many off-roading trails.</p>
<p>(Granted, Ronan wasn’t above trespassing on construction sites to drive the thing over loose dirt piles.)</p>
<p>Ronan made the thirty minute drive in twenty.  Once he got out of the industrial zone and past the city outskirts, there were no traffic lights to interrupt him.  Just winding country roads, dips and hills and mountain passes, trees arcing above, ditches beckoning on either side.  Out here, speed wasn’t a matter of endangering pedestrians or rear-ending some corporate asshole's Mercedes.  Speed was between a person, the car, the road, and the fear of God.</p>
<p>The ATV trail had been blocked to actual vehicles when Ronan arrived, probably because it was the off-season.  Game wardens didn’t want to respond to deep woods accidents involving dumbasses tossed off cliffs.  Ronan managed to drive the ATV around the gate blockade with much trampling of saplings and rattling of roots, because no one had <i>technically</i> posted that the vehicles were <i>banned,</i> and then he started off.</p>
<p>He found Hennessy sitting under a tree where the ATV trail branched into walking paths around the pond.  She’d walked exactly as far as she needed and no further.</p>
<p>This was irritating.  Partly because Ronan couldn’t tell how fucked up she actually was.  Playing the primadonna, or genuinely unable to walk straight?  Hennessy would never admit to weakness out loud.</p>
<p>He hopped out of the vehicle and headed over.  She was awake, at least, and conscious enough to pull herself to her feet, gripping the trunk as she did.  Ronan handed her the jacket with an uneasy glance upward.  Sunshine wouldn’t kill Hennessy, but the rays against her bare skin could be nasty.  The opposite of a human soaking up vitamin D.  And there was quite a bit of bare skin showing, on account of her being <i>fucking Hennessy.</i></p>
<p>“I was hoping you’d bring the gold one,” she said.  “It highlights my eyes.”</p>
<p>“Well, if you’re <i>that</i> unhappy with it.”  Ronan made to take the jacket back.</p>
<p>She stuck her tongue out at him and pulled it on, flouncing to the ATV.  Or at least, attempting to flounce.  She was wobbling - was that because of the shoes or because she was sick?</p>
<p>Ronan followed her.  Before he climbed on, he braced a hand against the back of her seat and offered her his other wrist.</p>
<p>“Nah,” she said.</p>
<p>“I really am gonna lose my fucking shit.”</p>
<p>“I’ll take too much,” Hennessy said, lightly.  “Can’t save the damsel in distress if you pass out.”</p>
<p>Hennessy had more control over her hunger than she used to.  Enough control that she didn’t slip unless she was hurt.  Ronan clearly wasn’t going to get answers from her here, where they could be spotted by any passing hiker, but his jaw clenched regardless.</p>
<p>He climbed onto the driver’s seat.  Hennessy hooked her legs around her waist and arms around his chest.</p>
<p>“How bad is it?” he asked.</p>
<p>She rested her chin on his shoulder, speaking directly into his ear as he revved the engine.  “I won’t die.”</p>
<p>“You sure?”</p>
<p>“Positive.”</p>
<p>For most people, ‘I won’t die’ would be a cold reassurance. <i> Not dying</i> still left room for a hell of a lot of other problems.  But as far as Hennessy was concerned, not being in mortal peril was a win.  She and Ronan could weather anything else.</p>
<p>Ronan zipped back at higher speeds than most trail guides would deem “safe.”  Hennessy slipped her forehead to his shoulder instead to avoid rattling her teeth every time the vehicle bounced over a fallen sapling, her grip so tight around his chest that his ribs ached.</p>
<p>By the time they arrived at the car, Hennessy’s breathing had gone raspy.  She hooked both arms over Ronan’s shoulders, making a performance of helplessness, begging to be carried like a spoiled kid.  Ronan knew this meant that she wasn’t confident she could walk.  Hennessy did not admit to weakness; Hennessy would mask her vulnerability with as much obnoxiousness as possible.</p>
<p>He hauled her up bridal style and deposited her in the passenger seat of the SUV, pulling up the blackout shade over the window.  As she lounged, indolent and half-conscious, he hooked the ATV back to the towing rig and then slid into the driver's seat.</p>
<p>“You wanna give me an explanation?” he demanded.  There was no way to black out the windshield and drive safely, but he flipped down the sunshade on Hennessy’s side.  Probably it would have been kinder to lay her in the backseat.  Dark and quiet, surrounded by night on all sides, the rumble of the engine soothing against an aching body.</p>
<p>Ronan was too pissed to be kind.</p>
<p>“Adventures,” she murmured, eyes closed, head laid against the darkened window.</p>
<p>“Elaborate.”</p>
<p>“Poor judgment.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, <i>that</i> I’ll buy.”</p>
<p>“My ride ditched me.”</p>
<p>“You had a ride?”  It could’ve been a genuine question, but Ronan weighted the words with all the sardonic ire he could muster.  And here he’d been thinking that Hennessy had designated <i>him</i> her personal chauffeur.</p>
<p>“An unreliable one.  Obviously.”</p>
<p>“And you were in a park why?”</p>
<p>“Maybe I just wanted to look at nature.  Listen to birdsong.  Cleanse my lungs with fresh air.”</p>
<p>They were on a fairly straight stretch of unpopulated road, so Ronan turned to stare at her full-on.</p>
<p>“Wow,” Hennessy said.  “I can’t believe you don’t think I could have layers.  Three-dimensional interests.  Desires.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you’ve got <i>layers,</i> all right,” Ronan said.  “Nature is not one of them.”</p>
<p>“It was just a get-together.  Party with some people from my old crowd.  Smoking weed, snacking on juiceboxes in a very consensual manner, shooting the shit, catching up on gossip.”</p>
<p>“In the middle of a local park.”</p>
<p>“They’re hicks.”</p>
<p>Ronan would eat his left foot if that was the whole story.  “Why are you so fucking thirsty if you were snacking on juiceboxes?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t say I was thirsty.”</p>
<p>“I really, really, really,” Ronan said, “am not gonna play this fucking game.”</p>
<p>Hennessy went quiet.  That was fine.  Ronan could deal with stewing in silence - what he couldn’t deal with was trying to break past fifty thousand walls of deflection and irony.</p>
<p>“I let my guard down,” she said finally.  Nearly whispered.  “They wanted to know what's been happening with me.  What changed.”</p>
<p>“What did you tell them?”</p>
<p>“I got bored with being a hedonistic bitch and decided to be a frigid bitch instead.”</p>
<p>Ronan snorted.  “And they ditched you?  No offense but, your crowd fucking sucks.”</p>
<p>Hennessy’s quiet this time struck a chord of alarm.  This sentiment demanded righteous fury, vindictive irritation, or at the very least mocking acknowledgement.  She could have defended her choice of social group or vehemently agreed that they were all garbage, and Ronan wouldn't have blinked at either.  Silence was unnerving.  When Ronan glanced at her, her eyes were closed more tightly, like she was bracing for a punch.</p>
<p>“Something happened before they ditched you,” Ronan said slowly.</p>
<p>“I let my guard down.”</p>
<p>“Tell me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you know, it’s my crowd.  It’s what you’d expect, it’s whatever.”  Her breath hitched slightly.  “I don’t bring anything to the table anymore.  Food, money, drugs.  I don't bring anything.  Except me.”</p>
<p>Ronan accidentally stomped on the gas, his knee jerking.  He wrenched the steering wheel around a curve and just barely avoided careening into a ditch.  The ATV rig, behind them, pulled wide enough to dip off the road, then straightened with a lurch.</p>
<p>“Don’t,” Hennessy said.  “Don’t wrap us around a tree, I mean.”</p>
<p>“You said the humans there were enthusiastically consenting.”</p>
<p>“They were.”  This was defensive, as if Ronan was accusing her of something.</p>
<p>“But you weren’t.”</p>
<p>“Do you know why I like you, Lynch?” Hennessy asked.  She’d managed to open her eyes against the brightness of the afternoon, just so she could glare at him.</p>
<p>“So many reasons.”</p>
<p>“You don’t <i>talk,”</i> Hennessy snapped, “about <i>this.</i>  Especially when I tell you not to.”</p>
<p>“Biting, not sex,” Ronan surmised.  “That’s why you’re anemic.  Or biting and sex.”</p>
<p>“Not sex.”</p>
<p>“Small fucking mercies.”  It wasn’t like being bitten was a <i>better</i> form of physical violation, but at least she’d been spared <i>some</i> shit.</p>
<p>Hennessy didn’t reply.  Ronan kept quiet, too, because his arms were trembling and his knuckles were white around the steering wheel and his feet didn’t want to ease off the pedals.  He wanted to crash the car.  Or set something on fire.  Or start a war.</p>
<p>He forced himself to act opposite his instincts, though, breathing out slow through his nose, breathing in quick through his mouth.  The trick signaled his body to calm down, reminded him there was no danger currently present.  After ten minutes, when he was reasonably sure he could control his voice, he discovered that Hennessy was silently crying.</p>
<p>“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” he said.  His tone was very calm and pragmatic, not at all the caustic anger he’d been throwing her way.  “We’re gonna get you inside and get you blood.  We’re gonna fix up the bites.  You’re gonna get some sleep.  Then we’re gonna plan revenge.”</p>
<p>“You immediately skip to the supervillain vengeance?”</p>
<p>“Fuck yes I do.  Let’s give them hell.”</p>
<p>“You don’t want to solve this by peaceably cutting them off?”</p>
<p>“Nope.”</p>
<p>“Even if I want them to die?”</p>
<p>“I’m pretty good at keeping you from murdering people when it’s not justified,” Ronan said.  “I’m gonna go ahead and call this one justified.”</p>
<p>“Thought you can’t be the judge of who lives and dies, Catholic boy.”</p>
<p>“I can when it’s a really obvious call.  I just decided.”</p>
<p>“Just now, you decided.”</p>
<p>“Yup.”</p>
<p>Possibly Ronan would feel differently about this once the incendiary rage had stopped burning holes in his throat.  For now, though, the damning of principle was worth it for the wan smile on Hennessy’s face.</p>
<p>As they stopped in the wide gravel parking lot that housed many expensive cars just <i>begging</i> to be stolen, Hennessy said, “Is anyone else around?”</p>
<p>“It’s like five PM.  No one’s awake.”</p>
<p>“I can’t be seen like this.”</p>
<p>This was probably true.  With Hennessy, the sentiment was a matter of both pride and survival.  Ronan didn’t know just how much of Hennessy’s current power hinged on her indestructible image, but he knew it was enough.</p>
<p>Which made the current situation even more complicated.</p>
<p>“Pretend to twist your ankle,” Ronan said.</p>
<p>Hennessy stepped out of the car and did a spectacular job turning her boot, falling ass-first onto the dirt, and throwing up her hands.  “Motherfuck!” she shouted, with exactly the same fury she’d employ had the ground actually become her enemy.  “I broke my <i>heel.”</i></p>
<p>“We’ll Superglue it back on,” Ronan said, exiting the car and walking around to the passenger side.</p>
<p>Hennessy glared up at him.  “I’m murdered.”</p>
<p>“You twisted your foot.”</p>
<p>“I’m literally, actually fucking murdered.”  She reached up.  “Carry me to my deathbed, Lynch.  Draw the curtains.  Don’t let my adoring entourage see me in my pallid state.  I want them to remember me as I lived.”</p>
<p>It was harder to lift Hennessy from the ground than from the ATV, but Ronan managed.  With a fair amount of staggering and grunting.  He was ninety-nine percent sure she'd staged the ankle stunt as dramatically as possible to make life difficult on purpose.</p>
<p>“Your room or mine?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Yours.”  Hennessy leaned back like she was trying to float on her back in a pool.  It did not do great things for Ronan’s center of gravity.  “I’m not getting blood on my sheets.”</p>
<p>Ronan was also ninety-nine percent sure that the number of bloodstained sheets Hennessy had murdered was in the dozens, but he just said, “Make sure I bleed somewhere cool.  The pattern’s gotta be badass.”</p>
<p>This conversation carried them up the stairs to the defunct apartment building that currently served as their house.  It was a relic of a time before the city had been rezoned, an oasis amidst factories and parking lots and construction.  The place hadn’t been torn down because demolition was expensive when there weren’t any plans to build on top of it.  It was not technically "habitable."  They were habitating anyway.</p>
<p>“You smell really nice,” Hennessy mused, pulling herself up to nose at Ronan’s neck.</p>
<p>“We’ve gotten so fucking far.”</p>
<p>“We’re basically there.”</p>
<p>“If you bite me, I can’t carry you the rest of the way.”</p>
<p>“Correction: We’re on the first steps of an uphill marathon.”  Hennessy sighed.  “C’est la vie.”</p>
<p>The elevator only worked on a good day, since their electricity came from shoddy wiring and illegal power siphoning, and Ronan didn’t want to test it, so he carefully maneuvered both of them down the steps to the basement.  Most of the rooms down here had been offices or furnace areas, although there were the two mysterious side-by-side units that the pair had commandeered.</p>
<p>Ronan put Hennessy down so he could unlock his apartment, allowing her to lean against him as they stepped inside.  It wasn’t a large place.  Hennessy ignored the itchy, questionably stained couch and made a beeline for the bedroom.  She flopped face-first on the mattress and groaned.</p>
<p>“I’m going to sleep for two weeks,” she announced.</p>
<p>“After you eat, sure.”  Ronan didn’t keep blood in his own space, but he used the key to Hennessy’s and rifled through her cupboards.  As per fucking usual, she’d managed to keep nothing in stock - <i>if I can’t find blood when I need it, I might as well die,</i> she’d told him on more than one occasion.  So he dug two very old blood bags out of the back of her mini fridge.  </p>
<p>They were slimy.  Eugh.</p>
<p>As he returned, Hennessy rolled onto her back and eyed the bags with distrust.  “Are those cold?”</p>
<p>“Yup.”</p>
<p>“I’m not drinking that.”</p>
<p>“Just pretend it’s an iced coffee.”</p>
<p>“It’s not iced.  It’s middling-side-of-chilly.  Unbearable.”</p>
<p>“Fine.”  Ronan set them on the bedside table.  “They can stay here until they warm up, then.”</p>
<p>“You really can’t find anything else?”</p>
<p>“Whose fault do you think that is, princess?”</p>
<p>She raised an elegant middle finger and grabbed for a bag.  Ronan winced as her talon-like fake nail scraped across the surface, but the plastic held until she dug her fangs into it.</p>
<p>Finishing the bag did not take long, despite the protests.  She laid the crinkled plastic beside the pillow like a used Capri Sun pouch.  “Oh, God, that was disgusting,” she said.  “I’m gonna throw up.”</p>
<p>“Not in here, you’re not.”</p>
<p>“That was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.  Oh, God.”</p>
<p>Cold blood wouldn’t actually poison her.  Ronan pretended to be sympathetic, patting her shoulder as she curled up on her side.  "The worst," he agreed.</p>
<p>“I <i>will</i> steal one of your kidneys,” she said.</p>
<p>“And do what with it?”</p>
<p>“Haven’t decided.  Save it as a rare delicacy, maybe.”</p>
<p>“How about we compromise and you steal my appendix instead?”</p>
<p>“Deal.”</p>
<p>Ronan laid down on the bed beside her, and when she didn’t flinch, curled an arm gently around her waist.  It was a queen mattress, so spooning was not technically necessary.  But she was shaking, so spooning made him feel better.  God knew he was better at offering physical comfort than verbal.  God knew he was so fucking angry about what had happened to her that his ears were ringing.  God knew his anger wouldn't make anything better for her.</p>
<p>“You gonna drink the other one?”</p>
<p>“No.  God.”  She gagged.  “Seriously, honest to God, no.  Not being dramatic.  Not doing it.”</p>
<p>“Cool.  Let’s leave it to warm up, then.  You gonna take a bite out of my arm?”</p>
<p>“Still don’t feel…”</p>
<p><i>In control.</i>  She’d weathered the closeness as he carried her, and she didn’t seem bothered by his closeness now.  But things could change as soon as she bit down.  The taste of blood had a tendency to make her forget her priorities, at least if she was hungry or high enough, and Ronan was confident that she wouldn’t kill him, but he couldn’t exactly help her if he ended up unconscious.</p>
<p>“Cool.  Waiting for the blood bag, then.  Let this be-”</p>
<p>“-a lesson in emergency preparedness, yeah, yeah, rural farmer Boy Scout bullshit, I got it.”</p>
<p>“I was gonna say ‘a reminder that you’re an idiot.’”</p>
<p>“Same diff.”</p>
<p>Ronan laughed, silently, despite himself.  “Okay,” he said.  “Jacket off.”</p>
<p>“I just want to sleep.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be real speedy with the disinfectant.”</p>
<p>“An infected wound isn’t gonna kill me, Lynch.”</p>
<p>“But it will make you an enormous fucking pain in the ass.”  Ronan rolled over to grab the first aid kit hanging beside the bed, which he kept for the times that Hennessy <i>did</i> opt to take a chunk out of his arm.  “Real speedy.  I swear.”</p>
<p>“Ronan.”</p>
<p>Ronan’s heart clenched.</p>
<p>She didn’t tend to use his first name unless she was unbelievably fucking miserable.  It had become shorthand between them, her fastest way of conveying <i>please I’m too tired please I’m too fried please I’m too sad just let me be please please please.</i></p>
<p>“Okay,” he said. “Okay. I won’t.  Infected wound’s not gonna kill you, you’re right.  Go to sleep.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“Hell are you apologizing to <i>me</i> for?”</p>
<p>“You’re trying so hard to be nice to me,” she said.  “You never try this hard.  I’m spoiling it.”</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you think I’m being nice.”</p>
<p><i>“Trying</i> to be nice.  You’re not great at it.  This is basically cake and ice cream by Ronan Lynch standards.”</p>
<p>“Well, by Hennessy standards,” Ronan said, “you’re a sad sack who should get dumped on the curb with the weekly trash, so thank fuck we’re judging by Ronan Lynch standards now.”</p>
<p><i>“There’s</i> the boy I know and love.”  Hennessy stretched her jaw in a yawn so wide that Ronan couldn’t tell whether it was faked.  “I really am failing all my usual measures, huh?  You should shoot me.  No weak bitches allowed in the pack.”</p>
<p>“I’ll remember that a week from now when you’re bitching about the infection that I could be preventing, at this second.”</p>
<p>Hennessy grimaced - Ronan, pushing himself up on an elbow to watch her face, saw her mouth screw up.  “I’ll stop being pathetic faster if I don’t let any bacteria ravage my body, huh?”</p>
<p>“Yup.”</p>
<p>“You can disinfect me if you don’t react.”</p>
<p>“Not sure how to hack my physiological responses, here.”</p>
<p>“The reactions you can <i>control,</i> shitdick.  I mean it.  No gallant speeches about defending my honor.  No maudlin Hallmark cards about how I’m worth decency.  No pissy tirades about the number of pieces you’re gonna hack them into.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Ronan said.  “No reaction.  Cross my heart.”</p>
<p>He turned over to grab the med kit, and she pulled the jacket off.  Underneath was a pair of denim shorts too ragged for the fall weather and a scarlet bralet that would cleverly hide bloodstains.  Ronan hadn’t seen any bite marks when he’d first offered the jacket, but he discovered now that that was because they were all on the other side.</p>
<p>It wasn’t as bad as he’d been expecting, actually.  He’d braced for ravaged flesh, grotesque sores, rows upon rows of scarring punctures.  But he counted just five individual bites scattered along her upper back.  They were relatively shallow, possibly because it was hard to get a deep angle.  This wasn’t a place that vampires typically bit to drink.</p>
<p>He didn’t realize that he’d stopped breathing until Hennessy said, “You’re reacting.”</p>
<p>“I’m not,” he grit out, ripping open the package of a disinfecting wipe.</p>
<p>“You are.  To your credit, though, you could be reacting worse.”</p>
<p>Ronan kept his hands gentle as he scrubbed each wound clean, and then he examined her skin for other scrapes or punctures that he’d missed.  About halfway through, she’d begun growling, low in her throat, an unconscious vampire sound that Ronan paid very little mind to.</p>
<p>“Did they do this just to prove they could?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Knock me down a peg.”</p>
<p>“Is it gonna have consequences?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah.”  Ronan heard the smile in her voice and frowned.  That couldn't mean anything good.  “They want me out of the game.  Don’t think I deserve to be on top now that I’ve gone straight.  They think they’re shaking it all out, like they’re distributing the wealth, socialist motherfuckers staging a coup.”</p>
<p>“And when other people hear what they did?”</p>
<p>“I’m not letting it slide, Lynch.  Don’t let the whimpery sadness fool you.  No one else will ever see it.  I’m gonna remind them all that I’m fucking crazy.”</p>
<p>“Good," Ronan said.  "Let me help.”</p>
<p>“It’ll be ugly.  Give you nightmares.”  As Ronan closed the kit and set it aside, she rolled over, laying her hands against his chest.  “I haven’t gone straight enough to let them forget who the fuck I am.”</p>
<p>Ronan couldn’t decide whether to be alarmed or relieved by this return to equilibrium.  This was a Hennessy he was very familiar with.  It was also a Hennessy who was very difficult to reason with.</p>
<p>“I won’t do it,” Hennessy added, baring her teeth, her fangs still out and stained faintly pink.  “No one gets to make me this.  Sad little bitch crying for her mother, no, I’m not playing that fucking game.”</p>
<p>“So, revenge.”</p>
<p>“Revenge.”</p>
<p>“Sure that’ll make you feel better than getting the fuck out of this scene for real?”</p>
<p>Hennessy’s muscles had coiled, hunting tension, her fangs dangerously close to piercing her lip.  She was still growling.  Ronan didn’t <i>think</i> she was going to attack him, but more unpredictable things had happened.</p>
<p>“The way I see it,” she said, “I’m a stereotype no matter what.  I get to choose which one.  They’re gonna paint me as some Lifetime movie fucker, some victim-blaming PSA fresh out of high school health classes.  No, I don’t think so.  I'm not letting them choose.  Fuck that.  I’m gonna be a crazy bitch.  I’m gonna be that motherfucker who makes middle-aged men piss their pants.  Let’s see who wants to fuck with me then.  At least it'll be someone fun.”</p>
<p>Ronan didn’t point out that she didn’t <i>have</i> to have a reputation at all.  He wasn’t sure it had occurred to her.  For Hennessy, a life of anonymity was anathema.  Ronan couldn’t understand it - he’d be just fine living and dying as a hermit farmer - but he’d never be able to argue with it, either.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m in,” he said.</p>
<p>Hennessy rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling, breathing harsh like a desperately dehydrated runner.  “This never happens again.”</p>
<p>Ronan didn’t point out that she had very little control over the future, and that purposefully making herself a target seemed to <i>increase</i> the chances of harm rather than decreasing them.  He had a pretty good sense of when Hennessy was willing to hear uncomfortable truths.  This was not one of those times.</p>
<p>At his grunt, she closed her eyes, choosing to take the sound as an affirmation.  Her breathing eased in slow increments, tongue swiping over her teeth to clear the last little droplets of blood.</p>
<p>Her voice was nearly back to normal when she murmured, “They wanted to know about you.”</p>
<p>Ronan's eyebrows arched.  “What about me?”</p>
<p>“What we are.  What you did to me, what I did to you, all that shit.  Why some human idiot has me on the straight and narrow.”</p>
<p>“Did you tell them you’re a hostage?  Please tell me you said you’re a hostage.  That would be so <i>fucking</i> funny.”</p>
<p>“I said it’s none of their goddamn business.”  Hennessy pressed her lips together.  “They wanted me to bring you out.  Me not hauling any meals to the potluck, scandalous.  Impolite, even.”</p>
<p>“Enthusiastic consent,” Ronan pointed out.</p>
<p>“They wanted me to be convincing.”</p>
<p>Convincing enough for Ronan to put up with being manhandled by unfamiliar vampires.  Ordinarily, he’d say that there wasn’t a chance in hell.  He didn't let people fuck with him, and he definitely didn't let unfamiliar vampires fuck with him. But Hennessy was different.  If she’d pitched it right, made it about the politics, made it about the friendships, made it about how <i>God only knows you need out of your head sometimes, relax</i> -</p>
<p>She could have done it.  Ronan would have enjoyed none of the contact, but he’d have borne it.  She could have convinced him if she’d tried, because she was a very talented manipulator, and because Ronan loved her enough that his tolerance levels had heightened.</p>
<p>“And they bit you instead,” Ronan said, “when you wouldn’t.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t make some grand sacrifice for your virtue, Lynch.  They were angling to tear your throat out.  I made the pragmatic choice.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh.”</p>
<p>“So watch your back.”</p>
<p>“I already do.”</p>
<p>“It won’t be like it was.”  Ronan assumed she meant her revenge schemes, a careful reassurance, until she continued, “If they kill you.  It’s not gonna be a reset button.  You know what I am.  You know what’ll happen.”</p>
<p>“I really shouldn't have to tell you this," Ronan said, "but I'm not gonna be cool with you killing innocent people if I get, like, horrifically tortured to death.”</p>
<p>“I’m not intending to,” Hennessy said.  “I’m not that kind of monster.  I’m just saying, there's a good goddamn chance I’m not gonna give a fuck what kind of monster I am anymore.  If something happens to you.”</p>
<p>“What if I accidentally fall into a wood chipper?”</p>
<p>“I will set myself upon the wood chipping industry.  Factories will burn.”</p>
<p>“What if I die peacefully of a heart attack in my sleep at age eighty?”</p>
<p>Hennessy exhaled.  “I’ll have my shit together by then.  Sixty years to get my shit together.”</p>
<p>It had taken a long while for her to acknowledge the eventuality of Ronan’s death.  At first there had been fights, infinite stupid fights about her turning him, about his stubbornness, about how he obviously hated her, about how she was obviously out of her fucking mind.  Then it had become long silences or quick changes of subject whenever mortality was mentioned.  That she’d acknowledged his finite lifespan now was - progress, probably.</p>
<p>“Go to sleep, Hennessy,” Ronan said.  “I’m beat.”</p>
<p>“Stay?”</p>
<p>“The fuck else am I gonna go?  Your bed’s a memory foam nightmare.  That shit <i>digests</i> me.”</p>
<p>She snuggled into his chest, her hair tickling his nose, and he curled his arm back around her.</p>
<p>“You can leave, you know,” she mumbled into his collarbone.</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“I don’t tell you enough.  You can leave.  I won’t maul any schoolchildren about it, I won’t-”</p>
<p>“I <i>know.”</i></p>
<p>“I just want to-”</p>
<p>“Hennessy.”  Ronan slid his hand up her spine and laid his palm against the back of her head.  “When I want to go, I’ll tell you.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”  Rather than getting ruffled about the use of ‘when’ over ‘if,’ she relaxed, curling up tighter.  “Okay.”</p>
<p>“Sleep,” Ronan said again, his chest aching for reasons he couldn't quantify, and she must have run out of verbal distractions, because she did.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>title comes from rise against's "behind closed doors"</p>
<p>
  <i>although we have no obligation to stay alive</i>
  <br/>
  <i>on broken backs we beg for mercy</i>
  <br/>
  <i>we will survive</i>
  <br/>
  <i>break out</i>
  <br/>
  <i>i won't be left here behind closed doors</i>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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